Fire & Rain
by DeliPlatter
Summary: AU. Katniss Everdeen was born in District 4, whilst Peeta Mellark was raised in District 12. She was a Career, he was an inexperienced baker's son. When they find themselves in the arena of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, will they be able to defy the odds? (On Hiatus until summer 2013)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

***Katniss***

My silver eyes gazed out at the beautiful blue sparkling ocean that represented the coast of District Four, the sun hitting off of the waves as the scenery flashed by my window. The white sand was littered with a handful of children, their parents obviously trying to take their kids' young minds off of the reaping that took place merely hours ago. I squinted through the light and could see their laughing faces as they splashed in the water, carefree, innocent, and safe. I wish I could say the same.

The plush velvet chair was certainly a change from what I was used to back home. The train compartment was decorated so perfectly, that it rivalled anything else I'd ever found comfortable in my entire life. The setting sun cast soft rays across the room, giving it a heavenly glow that made me almost feel calm enough to want to go to sleep. Almost.

Emmett had already vanished to his room, gladly welcoming sleep whilst I sat here at the window, wallowing and feeling sorry for myself. I knew that sleep would only bring on unwelcome nightmares.

I wondered what my mother and Prim were doing right now. The neighbours and everyone else in the district would most likely be celebrating right about now, but my family and Emmett's would be holed up at home, already mourning the almost certain death of their child or sibling. I could imagine them sitting around our small kitchen table, silently eating Prim's goat's cheese that she had prepared this morning, or perhaps attempting to eat the fish I had caught.

Could it only have been this morning that I was down by the forbidden pier, that was hidden by the thick willow trees? I knew it was illegal to be down there, it was deemed to be on Capital grounds, as it was beyond the fence, but my family needed food so I can't bring myself to regret doing it.

I decided I needed to trust my mother this once, on her promise to look after Prim incase anything was to happen to me. I needed to trust that she would snap out of her depression at least momentarily each day, long enough to make sure that Prim has had some food and that she is safe. After all, I didn't volunteer to save her from the Hunger Games just so she would die at the hands of my mother's uselessness.

Thinking about my family had distracted and saddened me long enough for the train to be moving away from District 4, and into the mountains and forests that we don't see at home. I knew the Capitol was east from here, but my mentor, Effie Trinket, insisted we wouldn't arrive until midday tomorrow. As it was now dark, I decided I should at least try to get some sleep. Sighing heavily, I untangled my hair from the intricate braids my mother had done for me this morning, and let my hair loose, causing it to blow lightly in the warm summer breeze coming from the open window.

I caught a strand and examined it, figuring this was my last night looking like myself before my prep team got their hands on me tomorrow. Through the light coming from the lamp beside the bed, I could see the red tint in my dark brown hair, something that almost all people back home have. People from Four are known for their red hair, but I got my deep, almost black hair from my deceased father, setting me apart from the flaming red haired merchants you found in town. I was just known as the poor, skinny girl whose family suffered when her father was killed in a fishing boat accident.

I pulled off my mother's blue reaping dress and found a simple white nightgown in one of the drawers. I changed quietly and submerged myself into the soft sheets of the comfortable bed.

I lay there for a few more hours, trying and failing to turn my mind off from the thoughts of what would come tomorrow. Instead I thought about Prim and felt comfort in the knowledge that, even though I am being sent to my death, she will be safe from harm. It is with this thought that I finally feel myself drifting off into what was a, hopefully, dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for reading :) Astounded by the response this story has gotten so far, so keep it up! Made me so happy :D Remember, this is a very AU story, so obviously I have changed things around a little bit in order for it to fit the story line. I don't own the Hunger Games, unfortunately, but please review and let me know what you think :) -Deli.**

Chapter 2

***Katniss***

I was woken the next morning by Effie Trinket rapping loudly on my door, announcing that it was apparently going to be a 'big, big, big day!'.

I peeled my eyes open to see warm sunlight pouring in through the gaps in the velvet curtains, once again setting the room aglow. I managed to get up and investigate the drawers full of clothes that the Capitol had provided for me, reveling in the softness of the cotton and silk shirts.

I chose simple black leggings and a blue top, figuring I didn't need to start dolling myself up until I was in the Capitol's official clutches. I put my hair into a high ponytail, feeling the need to have my hair out of my face, as it gave me a feel of control. In the training centers back home, that we were forced to attend to, it was mandatory that all girls have their hair tied up, so that it doesn't get in your way during combat and things like that. I guess the habit kind of stuck.

I made my way down the train corridor, navigating my way through the compartments until I found the dining room. The only things that had changed since dinner last night was the assortment of food on the long mahogany table. Replacing the stews and vegetables from last night, were breads in every shape and size, rows of multicoloured jams, and bowls of ice cold fruit that were laden in the freshest looking apples and melons I had ever seen.

Sitting down to the table with a plate of bread and jam was a muscly, rosy cheeked boy, his chestnut hair short with little spiked bits sticking up above his forehead. Emmett Thompson has been my friend since we were made partners in training when I was fourteen years old. He was a year older than me, at seventeen now, whilst I had turned sixteen only a few months ago. We weren't all that close or anything, not like I was with Madge, but when his name was called at the reaping, it still killed me a little inside to know that he would have to die in order for me to make it home.

Emmett smiled a wide smile when he realised my presence in the doorway, and motioned with a large hand to sit next to him. That was one thing I had always admired about him; he was almost always smiling. He was one of those people who could still manage a smile even in the most horrible of situations, like the one we are both enduring now.

"Good morning, Everdeen," he grinned, munching on a roll and dipping it in some strange brown liquid in a mug. I couldn't help but smile back and sit down beside him, helping myself to some melon and some traditional green District Four bread. I eyed the brown liquid suspiciously, wanting to try it, but at the same time I was wary of it, since I was already aware of my dislike for the bitter taste of coffee.

"Effie called it hot chocolate. It's good," he assured me, noticing my interest. After one sip of the steaming liquid, I practically downed the entire cup, before pouring myself another one, deeming it to be the best drink I'd ever tasted. Emmett smirked a little at my enthusiasm, before moving the jug towards the other side of the table.

"Might want to slow down there, don't want you up chucking all over me on the chariots tonight, now do we?"he teased, scrunching up his nose and making me laugh, despite the nervousness I was already feeling about the ceremony tonight. I dug into my breakfast before I realised the absence of our mentors and slighting irritating escort.

"Emmett, where's Finn-," I began, but was cut off by the sound of the automatic doors to the dining compartment sliding open. As an answer to my question, in strolled Finnick Odair, black sunglasses perched on top of his wavy bronze locks, before he beamed at us, flashing his pearly white teeth.

"Morning, tributes," he greeted in a sing-song voice, before slumping into the chair opposite me, and lowering his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose, hiding his sea-green eyes from view. I smiled in greeting, still unsure of the man in his early twenties. Due to my living conditions back home, I grew up with a strong dislike for the Capitol, and everyone in it. I could barely remember Finnick the way he was before he was reaped, but when I could occasionally get my mother to snap out of her stupor, she would tell me how he was actually a very sweet boy. However, all I could see now an over-confident ladies man, changed by the Games in which he was forced to take part in years ago.

"What's with the sunglasses? We're indoors," Emmett stated, looking curiously at our mentor, who was chugging a glass of kiwi juice. Finnick just rolled his eyes as if it was obvious.

"I'm trying to disguise myself from the entourage," he said, gesturing to the glass doors. I hadn't noticed before, but there were four or five giggling girls outside the door, no doubt Capitol staff who worked on the special high-speed train. I grimaced as one of them would point at him and the rest would erupt into a whole new round of annoying giggles.

"Why don't you just tell them to get lost?" I questioned, tearing my eyes away as one fluttered her fingers at Finnick, and waved at Emmett too. Emmett smiled and waved back before catching the glare I was giving him and abruptly lowered his hand and averted his eyes from the staff.

"I don't think disappointing the Capitol citizens would be the best idea right now, no matter how much they may disturb me. Trouble is not something I want to be dealing with right now, especially if I want to get one of you out of this alive," Finnick informed us, and I saw a flicker of something in his eyes when he looked up at us. Sadness? Remorse?

I suddenly felt sympathy for the man sitting in front of me. He was forced to constantly entertain and flirt with anyone who came at him, due to the Capitol's wishes. Victor or not, he would never be free. He was just a puppet. But, as quickly as the emotion in his eyes had come, it was gone, and replaced with his easy going look he entered the room with.

Just then, the doors opened again and in walked Mags, a short, shrunken old woman who was also our other mentor. She mumbled something and Emmett and I immediately turned our heads towards Finnick, looking for a translation. We had both learned from dinner last night that Finnick was the one we needed to rely on to tell us what Mags comes out with.

"Well, tributes. Pack up your things. Looks like we've arrived at the Capitol."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading, you honestly have no idea how much it means to me. I have received an incredible amount of alerts and favourites, and it really keeps me going :) Would love to see some more reviews, really want to know what everyone thinks! Again, remember it _is_ AU so obviously a lot of things have had to be changed :) - Deli.**

Chapter 3

***Katniss***

It took four hours before I was allowed to finally meet my stylist. Four long, torturous hours of being scrubbed, plucked, moisturised, waxed, and perfected before my prep team decided that I was deemed acceptable.

I flicked my slender legs back and forth, cutting through the air as they dangled from the table I was currently perched on. There was a drinks table set up in the corner, but due to the nervous butterflies swarming around my stomach, I doubted it would do me any good to have anything. I had already been waiting five minutes for my supposedly 'amazing' stylist, but him being late does not exactly paint him in a good light. Back home for training, five minutes late meant twenty laps of the lake. Needless to say, I had grown up with tardiness being of great importance.

The metal door suddenly flung open, and in walked a man that I was surprised to see looking so... _normal_. His brown hair looked as if it was its natural colour, and a quick scan of his dark-skinned face and arms told me that he was not covered in those luminescent tattoos that Octavia and Venia were wearing. At least, as far as I could see. In fact, the only thing that seemed Capitol-like about him was the golden eyeliner on his eyelids, and, to be honest, it actually looked good on him. The man then motioned with his hands for me to come towards him, and I hopped off the table at his request and stood there before him in nothing but my robe. He circled me, with his deep brown eyes set on me, evaluating me. Though I could see no unkindness in his gaze, it didn't prevent me from becoming uncomfortable with his stare, so I was thankful when he stuck out a smooth hand, laden with gold rings on nearly every finger.

"Good afternoon, Miss Everdeen. My name is Cinna. I apologise for keeping you waiting, there were just a few final adjustments that needed doing to complete your costume for tonight," he tells me, as I cautiously place my hand in his, and he shakes it with a warm smile. I hesitantly smile back, unsure whether his smile was genuine or not. Cinna seems to pick up on my hesitation and pulls out a chair for me, and brings over a glass of water to place on the table in front of me.

"Here, it should help settle the nerves," he says, surprising me once again. I was so sure I had kept my composure in the presence of other people so far...

"It's okay for you to be nervous about tonight. Hell, I'd be terrified. Going out in front of all of Panem in those unstable chariots can't be easy... I mean, I'm surprised no one's managed to fall out of them in all the years they've been using those things" he begins, before noticing my painful expression. "Sorry, not helping, I know," he grins sheepishly, and at this I had to smile back. An actual smile, not a strained, forced one like I had been giving to the world since the reaping. I decided there and then that this man, Cinna, could be trusted. I mean, it's not every day a stranger manages to pull a smile from quiet, reserved, Katniss Everdeen.

"Flavius told me you were new this year. How come you wanted to style District Four? You probably could've gotten Districts One or Two, I hear the Gamemakers always want the fresh stylists to glamour up the rich districts," I asked. And it was true. Year after year, the tributes tend to have the same stylists, so when a young, new face comes along, they are given to the earlier districts who have a better chance of winning.

While Four is considered a 'Career' district, we haven't had a victor in years. Our tributes usually consist of two types; the scared, young children who are reaped, or the occasional idiotic volunteer, who thinks they actually have a chance of winning. I guess I fit into the second category, aside from the actual chance of winning part.

"Well, they had originally assigned me to District One, you're right. But then I saw the reapings. The second I saw such a brave, self-sacrificing young girl volunteer to save her sister, I knew I just had to meet her. To get the chance to try and help her get sponsors, so that she could return home to the sister she saved. I'm sorry that this happened to you, and I'm here to help you in any way that I can."

His answer shocked me for a moment. The words he spoke were nothing like the ones that had been said to me whenever someone commented on my volunteering for Prim. It usually 'well done dear, you're bringing pride to your district' or 'you must feel so honoured!'. The choice of his words 'self-sacrificing' already gave me a glimpse of the man Cinna really is, and that is not a standard Capitol citizen that I have come across before.

"Most people just congratulate me," I murmur quietly.

"Well, I don't see the point in that," he says back, and I knew my instinct on trusting him was absolutely correct. I take a sip of my water, and instantly feel better, but I knew it had nothing to do with the cool beverage; it was the calming words of the man in front of me.

"Now, onto the topic of the tribute parade. Usually they dress people in the clothes from their district," he informs me, pouring himself a drink from the table in the corner.

"Yeah, we're always fish."

"But I don't want to do that. I want to do something that they're going to remember. I take it you're not afraid of water?"

Two hours later I was standing in front of the pure white horses that were to lead the silver chariot down the avenue towards the City Circle. District Four's carriage was painted a metallic colour, with splashes of deep blue paint woven in to make it look like falling waves. I noticed as the setting sun hit the paint, it let off that sparkling you see when you see light hit the water back home. It was wonderful, but it was nothing compared to the material that clothed my costume I was wearing at that moment.

I stood surrounded by the other tributes in a simply magnificent dress, its colour of the most beautiful of blue oceans, with my silky deep auburn tresses hanging in woven curls around my shoulders and down my exposed back. Sewn into the shimmering fabric were tiny, minuscule silver pearls that reflected light, set into intricate patterns to make it seem as if ripples were running throughout the material. Tinkling on my neck and fingers were small sapphires, their beauty drawing the eyes of anyone in the area. But that wasn't even the best part.

It turned out that Cinna was a genius. Instead of being fish, he decided to base our incredible costumes on actual _water_. And so, trailing from my waist down, was a material so astounding I couldn't comprehend how he had managed to get a hold of it. But this was the Capitol after all, and there was no doubt that it was enhanced somehow from it's original silk state. The fabric fell in wisps of blue, so light and delicate that when it brushes the floor of the remake centre it barely makes a sound. I could see with my own eyes as I moved, that the material changed colour subtly, but enough for me to see the flashes of white, turquoise and blue. The colour of waves crashing onto a solid surface, filling out and spreading across the shore until it draws back into the depth of the sea; into the depth of the rest of the dress.

Cinna had poured some kind of magical water onto the fabric, ignoring my pleas for him not to ruin and dampen the masterpiece. But as soon as he did, I saw that it was no ordinary water; more of a liquid that dissolved into vapour at contact, and clung to the dress, so that it cast a mist over the skirt, hovering above the fabric like some kind of shining, protective shield. It reminded me of the almost unnoticeable sprays that I could feel coming off of the waterfall near my house, a feather light spray that was cool to the touch and soothing in the heat of the afternoon.

I was not simply beautiful; I was as radiant as the sun.

The light wind swept in my hair as the people of the Capitol squealed and shouted mine and Emmett's names, chanting 'District Four!' over and over as I blew gentle kisses to the crowd. The train of my dress trailed behind me, spilling it's wisps and mist out onto the floor of the chariot, looking as if waves were crashing onto the metallic paint.

I glanced at Emmett who was grinning, a rose lodged sideways into his mouth as I let out a soft giggle. Despite my hatred for the Capitol and what they put families through every year with these wretched Games, even I had to admit that the excitement was getting to me.

Halfway through our passage to the City Circle, where the first three district's were waiting for us, Cinna and Demetria, Emmett's stylist, had released four seagulls, their calls and squawks to each other making it feel as if I really were back at the seaside in Four. They flew over the heads of the audience until they were called back to their confinements, soaring higher and higher until they disappeared behind the fluffy clouds just as the chariot stopped in front of President Snow's balcony.

There was no doubt that District Four had just made one of the best entrances to the Games in all of history.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thankyou for reading :D Want to thank the lovely people who gave me some reviews, you have no idea how much I love getting them! Please please please let me know what you're thinking, really helps me understand what people think of this thing :) Thank you for the alerts and favourites too :) -Deli.**

Chapter 4

***Peeta***

This was the third time now that Haymitch has thrown up all over himself in my presence.

The first time was when I was thirteen years old, on my way to the park, and my friends decided it would be better to take the shortcut through the Victor's Village in District Twelve. It was just a deserted row of houses, due to the severe lack of victors we've had in our time in the Hunger Games. Just as we were nearing the edge, an aging man came stumbling out of the only occupied house, clutching a bottle of the white liquor my mother sometimes drank on particularly busy nights at the bakery. After slurring a few orders at us to clear out of his 'territory', he proceeded to vomit onto the dusty ground, and then fall head first into it. We didn't set foot there again after that.

The second was the night of the reaping, on the train, and was probably the worst of them all. Despite the fact that I had just been chosen to fight to my imminent death, I then had to deal with my drunk of a mentor, who couldn't even sober up for five minutes in order to tell me how to tie a knot.

And now this. It was late evening, and we had just gotten back from the tribute parade, entering the Twelfth floor of the complex we would be staying in until we traveled to the arena. Dinner consisted of rich lamb stew, soft pitta bread, steamy pea soup and chocolate cake. This delicious and filling food, mixed with the bottle of liquor he consumed at the same time, seemed to have been too much for Haymitch's stomach to handle.

Haymitch now enters the lounge area looking freshly washed and vomit-free, before slumping down onto a lime green armchair. He reaches for a glass of scotch that sits on the coffee table, before Naya, our escort, snatches it away just in time.

The Capitol seal illuminates the giant screen, and we are greeted with an overhead shot of the path the parade will take. District One comes out dressed in pure white glittering fabric, District Two in golden body armor. District Three is just about to make it to the City Circle when I hear the gasps of Caesar Flickerman and the citizens observing in the stands. I look up from my leather shoes to see a flash of shimmering blue, almost as if the material was floating around the District Four chariot in a haze of sparkle.

The male tribute has a red rose lodged between his teeth within seconds, and was grinning and waving at the audience in a navy blue suit, made with a shiny material that twinkled in the sunlight. Despite him obviously looking like someone from Four would, all elegant and dashing, it was clear that the female was receiving the most attention from the audience, that were screaming as she blew light kisses to them.

She was the image of water, with her wispy blue gown, and her dark locks cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall. Her dark hair and grey eyes almost made her look like someone who you'd find in the Seam back in Twelve, but the setting sun cast a reddish glow around her head, like a halo, clarifying her as from District Four.

It was with this thought that I was reminded of who these people actually were; my enemies, and one of them could potentially be my future killer. That halo was not one of innocence, but one of deception, hiding the internal Career she has been trained to be her entire life.

"They look _beautiful_," Naya exclaimed, clasping her hands together and staring wistfully at the screen as a seagull whooshed past the camera. Vera, my fellow tribute, nodded in agreement, whilst Haymitch just grunted and took this opportunity to steal a swig of scotch.

The other chariots made their way down the avenue, before the District 11 carriage emerged from the doors and I realised I was next. A minute later, the sleek black horses pulled out from the Remake Center, and we were thrust into view of the cameras. The costumes looked even better than I remembered, and everyone in the room made sure to congratulate Portia and Simone on their incredible job in making District Twelve stand out for once in the opening ceremony.

Instead of going nude in nothing but black coal dust, we were dressed as actual _coal,_ and in the darkening evening we could be seen from miles away, glowing different shades of oranges, reds, yellows and blacks. As the colours on our costumes faded from one to the other and we saw ourselves on the screens, we seemed to have a boost of confidence, as we began smiling hesitantly towards to the crowd. I grinned and accepted flowers, waving at the people who could possibly save my life with their contributions as sponsors, whilst Vera stood there next to me, just waving nervously.

We all sat through President Snow's speech, and then Naya herded Vera and I off to bed, claiming that we were going to need our strength for training tomorrow. I muttered a half hearted goodnight to Vera before shutting the door behind me, taking in the moonlit room.

The comfortable looking double bed stood propped in the middle of the room, its pale green colour matching the paint on the walls. There was a wall made out of transparent glass, giving me a view of the busy streets of the Capitol, twelve floors below me. There was a bedside nightstand, a small mahogany desk stacked with blank paper and coloured pencils, a wardrobe and a door that I supposed led to my en suite bathroom. Never had I ever experienced luxury like this.

Growing up as a baker's son I wasn't as poor as those in the Seam, who barely had anything to eat. I might have complained about my circumstances every now and then, but there was always my share of stale bread on the dinner table every evening. I spent my weekends at the bakery, frosting the cookies and baking heavenly smelling cinnamon bread that filled my nostrils with its mouthwatering scent when it came out of the oven.

On a weekday, I might have played soccer with my friends after school in the park, but my free time on Sundays were usually spent with Gale.

Gale Hawthorne had pretty much been my best friend since I was thirteen, after I'd caught him looking through my trash cans. I had offered him some of the bread that I had baked that morning, but his pride refused to let him accept it. It took months before he was able to actually think of me as a friend, due to our different backgrounds and his downright stubbornness. Eventually he showed me the woods, where he introduced me to his snares, and even taught me to skin the animals. I left the hunting to him though, and in return for his knowledge, I gave him fresh bread for his family every week.

That was how our acquaintanceship went for months, only talking outside of school, and sticking to the survival lessons he gave me, until we were able to accept that we trusted each other, and were helping the other not just for personal gain. We helped each other because we were _friends_.

I wondered how Gale and my family were dealing with all of this; the reaping, the anticipation of the Games, and everything else they had to worry about. I yearned to see my father again, for his calm words to soothe me through the scariest time of my life so far.

I wanted to sit in a bed of moss under the canopy of trees in the woods, attempting to set traps whilst Gale complained and scoffed at how many mistakes I was making.

I even wished I could spend some more time with my two older brothers, even if they taunted and made fun of me the entire time. All I wanted was more time.

I woke up the next morning to the faint scent of breakfast wafting through the corridor outside my room, snapping me to my senses and realising just how ravenous I was.

I dressed quickly in the training clothes that had been laid out on my bed during the time that I was taking a shower. The complicated buttons on the panel had left me smelling of lemons, which I really hoped no one would be able to pick up. Haymitch would never let me live it down if I walked into breakfast smelling like sherbet. I wore simple black trousers, and a shirt with the number '12' on the back of it in a small red box.

Haymitch and Naya appeared to already be arguing when I arrived, whilst Vera sat there in a similar outfit to mine, looking awkward as she nibbled on her bread.

Vera Nichols was only fourteen years old when she was reaped alongside myself a few days ago. I'd never spoken to her, but most people knew her older sister, Penelope, who was eighteen and had survived her last reaping this year. Their family were from the Seam, meaning the two sisters had probably taken out a lot of tesserae each. I figured they must be willing to take quite desperate measures in order to survive, since it is no secret that Penelope Nichols had been spotted multiple times waiting outside old Head Peacekeeper Cray's house.

And everyone knew there was only one reason why young, severely poor girls waited to enter the home of that lecherous man.

I took my seat next to Vera, and piled my china plate high with breads and pastries, wanting to fill up on as much food as possible before I enter the arena and probably starve to death. Haymitch and Naya notice my presence and set aside their squabble for now, taking their seats opposite us. Haymitch takes a long swig of his juice, which I presume has been spiked, since I don't think I've ever seen him with anything non-alcoholic.

By the way he winces as the liquid burns his throat, I'm guessing I was correct in my assumptions.

"Right, listen up. You will be put in a room with your fellow tributes and then you will be free to have a look at the stations that are on offer. Pay close attention to them; they might give you some inclination as to what the arena will contain this year." Haymitch briskly informs us.

Frankly, I'm quite shocked. This is the first sign of actual helpfulness that the old drunk has offered to us since the moment we stepped on the train.

"Steer clear of the stations you are already good at. You don't want the others knowing what your skills are, they'll only use it to their advantage. Peeta, that means snares. The two of you should distinguish some plants, wield a spear, tie some knots, things like that. You never know what you'll need when you enter that arena." Haymitch continues, finishing his alcoholic juice and waving us impatiently away towards the elevators, clearly feeling as if he'd helped us enough for one day.

All twenty four of us are standing in a disorganised semi-circle, surrounding Atala, our head trainer, as she tells us just how slim our chances of survival in the arena will be.

Vera stands to my left, and to my right is a large dark skinned boy, the back of his shirt telling me he is from District Eleven. I can tell I'll need to watch out for him, judging by how strong he looks.

Atala informs us that we are waiting on a few late tributes, so she cannot release us to the stations just yet. I take this an opportunity to observe some of the children standing around me. I scan my eyes for the younger kids, and, thankfully, I don't think that any twelve year olds were reaped this year. In fact, Vera is probably among those of the youngest here.

There are a few of the dangerous looking ones, including the boy from Eleven standing next to me. I catch eyes with a tall, muscly boy from District Two, who, upon noticing my stare, flashes me a sadistic looking grin. I avert my eyes quickly.

Just as I am about to ask Vera what station she wants to go to first, I hear the elevator doors open to the Training Center floor, and twist my head around to see the late tributes enter.

Swinging his strong looking arms loosely by his sides, enters the male tribute from District Four, who I remember from watching the parade last night. He flashes a boyish smile at Atala as an apology, and begins to make his way towards the group of us gathered further down the spacious room.

As he moves aside, I can now see the girl from Four exit the elevator behind him, dressed in the same clothes I am, despite the small crimson '4' on the sleeve of her shirt. Now that I see her, her face fresh looking, dark hair tied back in a ponytail, and without the large amount of makeup she wore for the parade, I recognise her. I recognise her as the girl who volunteered.

I remember watching the recap of her reaping on the train, and finding it surprising. Not the volunteering part, for it was not uncommon for District Four to have a few volunteers every now and then, but more the reason of why. It was obvious that the little blonde girl meant a lot to her, but going into the Games by choice, just to save her? She must have known the chances of her returning were small when she did it. My own brother was eighteen, and had been eligible to volunteer for me after my name was called, yet he hadn't done so for me as this girl had for her sister.

Although I don't blame him for it. He was just as terrified as I was of the Hunger Games, and volunteering really is just asking for a death wish. I'd rather him be there to look after my family in case anything happened to me, rather than six feet underground, stone cold in a coffin.

There was no doubt in my mind that her act of bravery would get her a lot of publicity, and a lot of sponsors. She was a threat, and her devotion to her sister would be just the motivation she needed to wipe every living thing out once the Games started in a few days time.

And judging by the determined look on her face, she wasn't going to go down without a fight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for reading :) Huge thank you to anyone who reviewed, it's nice to know what you think :) Suggestions will be taken on board, and each comment is really appreciated. Please remember it is AU, so obviously the characters will be a little more modified. I wanted to give Peeta some backbone, and Katniss needs to be a little more open if she's going to be able to form friendships. Review! :) -Deli.**

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Chapter 5

***Peeta***

Once, when I was fourteen, there was a severe heatwave during the summer, that swept through District 12, drying the ground and limiting our already few resources.

My brothers were both out with friends, wanting to get away from the stuffy bakery. My parents had even closed the shop, after much persuasion from my father, realizing that nobody was going to be out and about, doing some shopping in this heat.

I was at a loss of what to do. Any friends of mine were either at home, drinking water and fanning themselves, or they were playing soccer. And it was just too hot for exercise in my opinion.

And that's when I realised what day it was. Sunday. And I knew that Sundays meant hunting days to Gale Hawthorne, my almost-friend. It was bound to be far more shady and cool under the shelter of the tree leaves and branches than it was out in the open like I was now.

Before I knew it, I found myself approaching the fence that separates the coal-dusted town from the wilderness beyond. I hadn't ever done this by myself before, but I knew the procedure by now. I stood quietly and listened for the hum of electricity that never came, before glancing around to make sure that no one sees me slip under the wire.

I was right about it being cooler out here, but as I navigated my way by memory towards the place where Gale had shown me once, doubt began to creep into my mind. What if I was invading his privacy by coming uninvited? I mean, we weren't exactly_ friends _yet, and there was a good chance he would just ask me to leave.

These thoughts would have to wait, however, as I see a dark head of hair make its way through the trees, and come out into the sunlight in the clearing I was currently standing in. His expression changed from calm to surprised, until it took on an irritated expression.

"Mellark? What may I ask are you doing here?" he questions, eyes hard and guarded, after having been caught in the only place that gives him happiness. Yes, he really wants me to leave right about now. But then I think about going back to the bakery and the overwhelming heat, and I decide I'll stay whether he's here or not.

"I needed to get away from town. The bakery's closed, so if you were thinking about making some trades there, you may want to reconsider," I told him, hoping to eliminate reasons he'd have for making me leave. Gale sighed and dumped his knife into its holder on his frayed belt.

"It doesn't matter anyway, none of the animals are out. They're all hiding down some hole in order to escape the sun, same as you are," he explained, wiping his dirty hands onto some dry grass in an unsuccessful attempt to clean them. He took a seat and sat on a log that had been smoothed out over the years, so that it didn't give us splinters as it probably would have when the tree first fell. "So, I guess since you're my only company for the day, what do you want to do?" he said, looking up from trying to fix his torn trouser leg. I blinked a little, surprised he would willingly offer to share his woods with me, but anything was better than the stifling bakery.

'What about some snares? I did so badly the last time, so I need the practice. And any of them that are done correctly can be set for when the animals come out of hiding." I suggested, wanting to learn something whilst I had the opportunity.

Gale nodded and I sat on the log next to him, as he began to explain and go over the many different types of traps, and where the best place to put them would be. He went over the different materials, and the measurements of each you would need to use, as well as how to disguise it so the animal can't expect it.

We spent the whole afternoon in that clearing, going over the different snares and practicing a couple. I managed to get my leg lodged in one of them, and snapped a particularly sharp trap down onto my finger, as Gale scolded me and insulted my coordination skills.

* * *

As I sit here now, in the cool, air-conditioned training center, I think back to that day, and exactly how Gale explained the trap that is able to have someone hanging upside down from their foot.

I examined the different wires and rope in front of me, and decided that I was never going to get it right. The instructor for the snares station smiled at me sympathetically. I was wondering why he hadn't just kicked me off the mat yet, but then I realised that he probably hadn't had many tributes visit him in a while.

It was the third day of training, and not once had I seen anyone come near this station, aside from the occasional tribute who wondered over to inspect the deadly looking ones. Figures. Everyone just went for the weapons.

Vera and I had originally planned to stay together, under Haymitch's instruction, but she was as uninterested in the snares as most of the others, so she said she'd meet me at the spears soon. I set aside my abandoned snare and observed my fellow tributes as they worked at different stations situated around the room.

The first thing that caught my eye was the boy from District Two, the violent looking one who smirked at me on the first day. I had had a bad feeling about him then, and watching him now only confirmed my fear.

He was holding a shiny silver sword, one with an encrusted handle, and was slashing away at a group of assembled training dummies. Off went the head of one, and then the next was sliced through the middle, the next stabbed viciously through the heart. I could tell that he would show no mercy in the arena, and judging by the satisfied smirk on his face as he gazed at the mutilated dummies, he may possibly even enjoy himself.

The other Careers were usually found at these sorts of deadly stations; the girl from Two had been glued to the knife throwing since day one. The tributes from District One were found at similar places, archery and spear throwing being the main attractions.

All the others were scattered around the training center, some with their District partners, some alone. Occasionally you would hear a bang coming from the weight throwing station, or the clang of knives making contact with the dummies.

It was then that I spotted the two most unlikely Careers I'd ever seen take part in the Games. For some reason, District Four was not usually as well trained as One and Two, but they were still considered fighters, and were usually expected to be as ruthless as anyone else.

Although I may not want to admit it, I had been keeping tabs on the two tributes from the oceanic District. Maybe it was because I knew they were threats, just as the boy from Two was, although they seemed far more compassionate than him.

I had watched the boy from Four throw a weight from across the room at such a speed yesterday, that it rivaled even my ability. I prided myself on my strength from lifting sacks of flour my entire life, but Haymitch had insisted that we keep our skills to ourselves. Careers don't have this issue, since everyone already knows that they can do everything there is to offer. At least, weapon-wise.

Minutes later I had found myself watching the girl, as she fired arrow after arrow into the air, until she was taking down five targets at a time. Then I saw her lob a spear into a practice dummy from twenty meters away, making it get lodged into the wall, the dummy pinned with it.

I knew they were definitely dangerous, but looking at them, sitting together at the camouflage station, they seemed rather harmless. I saw the girl, her hair in a dark braid today, spatter some blue paint onto the boy's forehead, as he retaliated, smearing her cheek with yellow in return. I heard their laugh from across the room, and I couldn't help but smile a little at their antics.

I couldn't help but think that, if a Career was going to win, I sincerely hoped it would be one of those two.

* * *

Lunch was the same as usual. I collected an arrangement of different foods from the serving table, and took a seat in the corner with Vera.

These 'sociable' times were the opportunities the Capitol gave us to form alliances before we went into the arena, something that not many people bothered to do. There was a chance we were all going to die anyway, right? Why make the experience worse by having to consider murdering a friend. Besides, Haymitch had told us not to trust anyone, and I think forming an alliance falls into that category.

In fact, looking around, I didn't see anyone sitting with people from outside their district. Partners tended to stick together during the training period, but once the Games started it was basically every man for himself.

Even Vera and I had managed to stay quite secluded from one another, eating in silence every day and not putting much effort into any conversation that might occur. There was a silent agreement between us that said, 'What's the point in making friends with someone who could die within the week?'.

As I picked at the bread on my plate, I did the same as I did everyday, and named the different Districts in my head. White, fluffy rolls for District One. Green, seaweed tinted bread for District Four. The hard, tough, dough that represented District Twelve.

I heard a loud laugh from the Career's table, and looked up to see the boy from One pick up a napkin and wipe off a brown substance that was dripping down his face, that I noticed matched the exact colour of the boy from Two's stew. I saw the girls just roll their eyes, but I noticed the girl from Four trying hard to keep a smile off her face. She clearly found the situation ridiculous, and a glance at her district partner, who was rolling his eyes at her, barely kept her from keeping her laughter in.

However, she must have felt my eyes on her, since she turned her head to look at me and pierced my gaze with silver eyes. I snapped my eyes back down to my bread until I was sure she'd looked away, and then proceeded to pack away my unfinished lunch and head back to the training center, to make sure I got a place at the camouflage station this time.

* * *

It was almost the end of the day when I heard it. The volume of the raised voices increased until shouting could be heard bouncing off of the walls from all sides of the training center.

"You stole my knife! You stole it, I know it was you, you little low life." the boy from Two was yelling, right into the face of the boy from Six. Two lunged for the other boy, who was clearly terrified of this older, more muscular and stronger looking tribute. The scuffle was left alone by the Gamemakers, who were watching with great interest from their balcony. I think some of them were even speaking encouraging words, and signaling for the instructors not to intervene and ruin their fun.

"I'm telling you, I didn't take it! I wasn't even near you!" the District Six tribute exclaimed, regaining some confidence.

"Like hell it wasn't you," Two growled, and as he swung his fist back, ready to take a swing at the other boy. I was about to come in and break up the fight, since this really wasn't the place for it, but a certain dark haired Career got there first.

"Cato, leave it. Come on, walk away," the girl from Four said firmly, grabbing 'Cato's' arm to prevent him from landing it in Six's face. As Cato didn't move from his position, she yanked on his arm again, her braid flopping down onto her shoulder as she got more forceful. "Cato, I said _move. _Come on, it's not worth it." she muttered, exasperated as if he were a child and she was the one who told him off for the same thing over and over again. Which was probably true.

Cato considered her for a moment, before violently pulling his arm away from her. He stood up and regarded the cowering District Six boy with disgust.

"Consider yourself lucky. Just wait until we're in the arena," he spat, before stalking off in the direction of the axes and maces.

The small crowd that had formed slowly dispersed, but I stayed long enough to see Four pull Six to his feet, inspecting his elbow that had made contact with the hard floor as Cato pushed him down.

"Hey, are you alright?" she asked, still looking at his elbow. I could see the boy from Six was just as surprised as I was. Why should she care? If he was injured or scared then it would only work to her advantage. It was how Careers were expected to think. But eventually the boy mustered a quick nod, and Four gave a polite but genuine smile, before walking back in the direction of plant identification.

It seems I'd underestimated the girl from Four.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for some lovely reviews! Really motivates me to continue writing, please let me know what you think :) Sorry that this took a little longer than usual, it's exam season at school. Thanks to the story alerts and favourites, I am amazed at how well this story has been received by you all. -Deli.**

* * *

Chapter 6

***Katniss***

I almost stumbled in my haste to climb down the metal stairs, the sound of applause echoing around my head, bouncing off the walls of my eardrums.

I attempted to wipe my sweaty palms on the side of the painted wall to my left, not wanting to damage the extravagant material of my dress. I heard the booming voice of Caesar Flickerman introduce Emmett, and the cheers and applause intensified as he took to the stage after me.

I pass the remaining tributes who have yet to be interviewed, lining up against the wall. Each one is dressed similarly to me, elegant and as eye-catching as possible. This was the last chance to get sponsors, and for those who didn't get high training scores, this was their only hope for getting help in the arena. Some look nervous, their eyes darting around the waiting room in fear, others seem cool and collected, like the District Eleven boy. He merely stares straight ahead, a determined look on his face.

Effie reaches me first, placing a congratulating hand on my arm.

"Well done, dear. You did _brilliantly_," she exclaims happily. I am not too sure about that.

Climbing onto that stage and giving my interview was hardly the most brilliant thing I'd ever done. I was already dreading watching the interviews tonight, seeing me act like a frivolous young school girl, twirling around in a wispy blue dress.

I am led into the 'waiting room', a large, comfortable room around the back of the main stage and it's huge audience. It is filled with soft leather couches and large velvet drapes that hang from the glass windows, overlooking the Capitol. Practically one entire wall is made up of a television screen, and it shows the red-headed District Five girl climbing to the stage. A large hand is placed on my shoulder, and I turn to find Emmett standing behind me, presumably as he just finished his own interview.

"Let's go be sociable, shall we?" he smiles, trying to relax the tension and anxiety he can probably feel coming off me in waves. I return his smile gratefully, and allow him to lead me towards the couches occupied by our 'allies'.

Cato and Clove, being the obsessive warriors they are, were focused, examining each tribute as they took to the stage, evaluating whether or not they were going to be a serious threat. Glimmer was conversing with her stylist, her hands flying to her hair every few seconds to make sure it was still in place, and Marvel sat there looking bored, but stood when he saw Emmett.

I definitely wouldn't call it a friendship, but the two certainly preferred each other's company compared to Cato, who was their only other alternative. So I can't bring myself to blame them.

Still, I tell Emmett every night not to get too close, not to let his guard down. This late in the competition, so close to the death of one or the other, it just wasn't the best idea.

It was a rule I had abided by since the moment I set foot in that training room and met my fellow tributes.

There were momentary lapses of judgment, like when I helped the boy from Six stand up, or when I set eyes on the the small, adorable District Eleven girl, and was reminded of a certain blonde haired sister sitting back home. I imagined how easy it would be just to pluck the dark skinned twelve year old out of harm's way at the cornucopia, and hide her somewhere safe until the Games were over. But the thought of Prim back at home, waiting for me with only my mother for company in our tiny house, reminded me of the importance that I try my best to win. I'd promised, after all.

I sat silently as more and more tributes filed through the doorway, clearly grateful that their interview was over, but terrified of what was yet to come. This was, essentially, our last day of safety, our last day of guaranteed survival. There was no telling the number of how many of us would still be alive tomorrow night.

I was barely aware of my surroundings until I felt a tug on my arm. I looked up quickly to find Finnick trying to lead me towards the elevators, following the tributes who were all leaving quietly, escorted by their respective mentors.

"Come on, woman. Don't make me carry you," he threatened, only half joking.

"Oh please, like you have the muscle capacity for it, Odair," I replied, rolling my eyes as he chuckled good-naturedly.

Over the past few days, Finnick Odair and I had struck up a sort of friendship. I allowed myself to open up with him, within reason, since he wasn't a tribute and I didn't need to think about killing him every time we spoke. But even if he had been, I think being his friend was inevitable. He reminded me of Emmett, with his easy smiles and flashy grins that he handed out in bulk. I knew that he was just another reason for me to want to make it back.

* * *

I took a seat on the plush velvet armchair on the fourth floor, watching the Capitol seal flash it's way onto the television screen. Caesar Flickerman was introduced, the studio audience, that consisted mainly of middle aged women, squealing in excitement.

I saw Glimmer bounce onto the screen, winking seductively at the cameras, showing off her nude coloured dress. Marvel followed, using his enthusiastic grins to impress the audience. Cato and Clove were playing the traditional Careers, cold smiles and evil remarks, hinting that they just couldn't wait to go out there and slaughter some children.

I observed closely as I made my way onto the television screen.

I scrutinised the way my navy dress brushed my skinny knees, deciding that the sponsors would claim me to be weak. My hesitant smile as Caesar tries to open with a joke, makes me seem scared and pathetic, certainly not what sponsors would be looking for, right? I decide then that there was no way anyone would want to sponsor me, no matter how much effort Cinna put into my appearance. I was a lost cause.

The only time I served to be remotely interesting was when I was questioned about my training score.

I was still getting over the fact that I had really done that. I supposed I'd always had a bit of a temper, but my whole life was probably riding on that private session, and I went and shot an arrow at people who could not only kill me, but also my family, within a few hours. Now that my anger had dissipated, I could admit that it was stupid.

But that doesn't mean they didn't deserve it. I could remember Glimmer's comment the morning before the training sessions.

"Show them whatever you need to."

At the time, I had presumed she meant weaponry skills and knowledge on plants and that kind of thing. But it wasn't until I raised my bow and arrow, and was taking aim, that I realised they weren't paying any attention at all to my archery skills. Their leering gazes were more focused on some of my other... _assets. _

Glimmer's words made more sense now. I guess now I know exactly how she got an eight in training.

But still, I managed a smile in my interview and even attempted to make a joke out of how I really got an eleven. No reason for the Gamemakers to try even harder to kill me off in the arena tomorrow.

Emmett was his usual light and humorous self, the audience lapping up his happiness like fresh milk. The District Eleven girl was sweet and smiley, the boy stiff and only replied with curt yes or no's. He was going to be dangerous, and I hoped it wouldn't come down to us two. If I managed to make it that far, that is. I would hate for Prim to see me die a bloody, brutal death like he could give me.

* * *

Emmett walked me back to my room, silence enveloping us both. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?

"You, my friend, need to stop worrying," he smiled, small dimples appearing in his rosy cheeks. I stood there for a moment, staring at him, before pulling him into a tight hug.

"What if something happens?" I mumbled, wanting to be consoled out of my fear, but far too proud to admit it. He laughed lightly, patting my head jokingly.

"It won't. Trust me, you're going to be fine. We have a plan, remember?" he assured, pulling back to look at me. I nodded, reminding myself of what needed to happen.

The Careers would be too busy picking off the other tributes to bother much with Emmett and I; they presume we're allies.

Emphasis on the _presume_.

District Four or not, Emmett and I were not monsters. I certainly did not find joy and excitement in murdering people, let alone young teenagers. I had been raised to understand that sometimes it was necessary to kill when you are a participant in the Hunger Games, but that didn't mean I wanted any part in raising the death toll in the initial bloodbath. Not if there was no reason for it.

When those cannons went off, signaling the deaths on the very first day, I didn't want to know that I was responsible for a lot of them.

Emmett shared my feelings, and together with Finnick and Mags, we decided on a strategy.

We would play the perfect Careers around the tributes. We would show our skills in training in order to intimidate the competition, sit with Districts One and Two at lunch, and act like everything would happen as it always does in the arena; District Four will ally with the other Careers, do their duty by helping them kill, until it came down to the final eight, and it was every man for himself.

Except that wouldn't happen. While One and Two were off battling the other tributes, Emmett and I would grab what we could, and run. We would run deep into the woods, as far away as we could from the Cornucopia, locate a water source, and survive for as long as possible.

There was no doubt that once the Careers realise what we'd done, they'd be furious. Cato would probably make it his personal mission to hunt us down, and kill us painfully for deserting the pack. But after all, we were from Four, and Emmett was one of the strongest people I knew. I honestly felt like we had a chance. We could escape.

Obviously there would be complications later on... there could only be one winner after all. But I knew I would try my best to make sure that if it wasn't going to be me, it could be Emmett that returns home to his family.

"You're right. Everything's going to be fine." I repeated, trying to convince myself more so than the boy standing opposite me. Emmett grinned widely, hugged me again and wished me goodnight, his ever-present smile still gleaming on his round face.

He pretends that everything is okay, puts on a brave face for me and for his family who watch him on the television. He doesn't know I can hear him crying privately at night.

* * *

I lay in bed, my last night I'll get to sleep in one, and wonder how I was ever going to turn my mind off. I felt like the painted walls were closing in, compressing my lungs and throat so that I couldn't breathe. All I knew was that I needed to get out.

I wandered down the corridor, thankfully hearing silence from Emmett's room, meaning he must be asleep. At least one of us will have our strength for tomorrow. I came across the elevator and figured I could check to see if any breakfast had been made yet. It was only 3am, and my stomach wasn't exactly in the mood for food, but anything was better than staying in my stuffy bedroom.

I pressed the letter 'R', presuming that it was for Reception, the bottom floor, but I guessed I'd been mistaken when the elevator started silently shooting upwards. After a few seconds the doors dinged open, onto a small landing with only a thick metal door leading away from it.

I hesitantly stepped out onto the landing, wrapped in a woolly jumper I had found in one of the mahogany drawers in my dresser. My sock-clad feet reached the metal door, and I pushed down onto the handle to be met by a cool breeze.

Behind the door was a large paved patio, with a railing that over looked the entire city. I could see the bright lights of the Capitol from every direction, the stars dimly twinkling in the dark sky.

I slowly walked towards the railing, my hair blowing my braid to pieces, so I decided just to undo it and let it fall in waves over my shoulders. Mesmerized by the lights, I peered down to see Capitol people dancing in the streets, wearing costumes and laughing with each other.

As I was pondering why they could be celebrating at a time like this, I didn't notice a set of feet shuffle out from behind one of the tall plants in the artificial garden.

"Come to join the party? It's for us, after all."

I spun around to find the source of the voice, my eyes flickering back and forth in the darkness. Then I finally saw him as he further emerged from the plants.

A boy, who looked to be around my age, was standing in his pyjamas, a dark blue dressing gown tied loosely around his waist. His blond hair stood out against the dark of the night, and his blue eyes glanced up at mine from where he had previously been staring at the ground.

I recognised him, only I just couldn't place him. Was he from District Seven? Ten, maybe?

"What are you doing up here?" I managed to get out, once I had gotten over the shock of his sudden appearance. He chuckled softly, looking out over the streets down below us.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. The roof is only a floor above the Twelfth, but floor Four is a little further away."

Ah. District Twelve.

I could see him now in my mind's eye; the dusty, crowded looking reaping of District Twelve, his brothers' outraged protests when he was reaped. The burning coal costumes from the chariots, and the shower jokes he shared with Caesar in his interview.

I shrugged indifferently, and turned back to watch the parade below us. The Twelve boy came and stood next to me, him too leaning against the railing and observing the rowdy people. The rowdy,_ safe_ people.

"Awful, isn't it. That to them, this is actually a time of celebration." he muttered, looking with disdain as a laughing young man pretends to slash his friend with a cardboard sword.

"We're in a television show now, Twelve. We're their pawns. I suppose they can do whatever they want with us, it's not like we have a choice in the matter," I murmured. I had already accepted my fate, I would have gone insane with the stress of it all if I hadn't. Twelve sighed and sadness crept into his eyes as I looked at him from my place next to him.

"That's just it. I don't want to be just another piece in their Games." he said, glancing away from the crowds and looking back at me. My eyebrows furrowed a little.

"So, you won't... you won't kill anyone?" I asked suspiciously. I wondered if this was just another ploy, another tactic. Play the innocent martyr and then unleash hell in the arena. The boy sighed again and considered this for a moment.

"I think that, if the time should come, I'm sure I would kill just like anyone else. But, I know that if I'm going to die, I want to still be me."

His confession seemed so genuine, so sincere, that I couldn't help but believe him. But I also couldn't help but think that it was a waste of time. Here was a boy from District Twelve, a poor, naïve, seeming boy, who wanted to try and win the Hunger Games and still come out of there as himself. Everyone knew that people always changed once a tribute became a victor.

We stood in silence for a little while longer until he pulls out a paper bag filled with peppermints. He holds the bag out to me.

"My escort gave these to my mentor because she claims he needs to freshen his breath. He, of course, threw them to the floor right after she left the room, but I decided to salvage them. We don't get luxuries like this in my District very often," he shrugged. I eyed the bag, before temptation gave in and I picked one from the bag, offering him a small smile.

We stood that way, leaning against the railing, munching on peppermints, until soft rays of pink began to dot the sky with colour. Sunrise.

Twelve turns to me and smiles crookedly, offering his hand.

"So, I guess I should say good luck," he says, his smile turning into a slight grimace as he remembers what today will bring. I eye this boy, considering his plan to stay himself, and I know that, should I make it past the first day, I will be watching the skies, looking to see if he makes it too.

I am surprised at the loss I already feel, the loss of something I've never had. The loss of a friendship that probably could have existed between us had we been in different circumstances.

But I focus on the present, on the reality and seriousness of our situation. I was going into an arena with twenty-three other children, and I needed to make sure that I was the last one standing in a few weeks' time.

So instead, I simply place my hand into his still outstretched one, and smile slightly, for he is merely a boy, as I am just a girl, and we could potentially be dead by afternoon.

"Good luck, Twelve." I murmur, before turning on my heel and returning to my bedroom, to both mentally and emotionally prepare myself for entering the Hunger Games.


	7. Chapter 7

Had a wonderful amount of reviews last chapter, you have no idea how much they all meant to me :) Please please please carry on reviewing, they motivate and inspire me to continue with this :)

In response to some reviews, I am trying to make this story as realistic as possible (well, as realistic as fiction can get). Coming from different districts, and being in a competition where many will have to die, I can imagine that the tributes do not go around being best friends and all that, and even among the Careers, none of them really trust each other. This is why I have kept the Katniss/Peeta interaction to a minimum, as I would rather save it for the arena :) Thankyouu -Deli.

* * *

Chapter 7

***Katniss***

The bright, yellow light from the sun hits my forehead as I come into it's view. The metal plate stops slowly rising upwards, as it reaches level with grass and soil. A gust of wind rushes through my dark blue jacket, the light material rippling in the light force.

As soon as my eyes adjust to the brightness, I see trees. Trees, plants, and grass surround me from every side, apart from the gold, looming structure of the Cornucopia.

Despite my situation, I can't help but feel a little relieved.

All morning I had been imagining the kind of arena the Gamemakers could present us with this year. A desert island had crossed my mind, or perhaps an icy wasteland where we would all die of frostbite or hypothermia within a few days. But a forest? With a large, freshwater-looking lake to be used as a water source? It was more than I could of hoped for, really.

So unless those dense trees were crawling with manic, flesh-eating muttations, programmed to eat us immediately, I should have a reasonable chance of survival.

A giant clock is suddenly projected onto the mouth of the Cornucopia.

60 seconds. Just one single minute left before approximately half the children standing around me will be slaughtered.

I tell myself to focus as the timer begins to count down.

50 seconds.

I scan quickly over the circle of tributes, searching for my only true ally. Emmett is standing almost directly opposite me, his eyes hard and centered onto a particularly large mace sticking out of the pile of weapons in the middle of us all. Cato is three tributes down from him, a sadistic smile on his face as he glances impatiently at the ticking clock.

40 seconds.

I glance to my left and see the red-haired, fox-faced girl I remembered to be from District Five. She looks scared and nervous, constantly looking towards the dense forest behind her, looking like her mind was running a mile a minute. To my left was Glimmer, also wearing a slight smile, yet I do happen to notice a trace of fear in her usually composed facial features. I supposed it was good she had at least a little bit of emotion inside of her.

30 seconds. Half my time was up.

I tried to remember any advice I was given in my time in the training centre, things that could help me in the next few hours to come. Finnick, with his unique goodbye that he gave me before I climbed aboard the hovercraft.

"Now remember, Squirrel, you're going to need water. And lots of it. During my Games, I hit a really low point, and if it wasn't for my many female sponsors, I probably would have died. Which wouldn't have been a very pleasant way to go, either. As soon as that gong sounds, you and Emmett find a source, got it? Good. And I know you're worried about the other necessities you may need in the arena, but you've got one of the most attractive bodies out there, aside from maybe that District One girl, so your sponsors totally dig you, trust me. Good luck out there, fish girl. I know I'll see you soon."

20 seconds.

I thought of Effie's tearful goodbyes, as she stutters out how she wishes this wasn't happening to 'respectable' people like Emmett and I. That was probably the closest she's ever gotten to actually bad-mouthing the Capitol.

Cinna's words of encouragement entered my mind next.

"I knew from the moment I saw you at the reaping that you were a fighter, that you wouldn't just give up as soon as things got a little complicated. You're one of the strongest people there is this year, and I know I'm not allowed to bet... but if I could I'd bet on you."

10 seconds.

I picture the Justice Building in District Four, the marble walls and grand fireplace in my waiting room as I anticipate the arrival of my family and friends, in order to say my goodbyes.

Madge with her flowing strawberry hair, her whispers of comfort as I break down in her arms before a Peacekeeper announces that her time is up.

My stern words to my mother, trying to make sure that things will carry on in case I only returned in a coffin.

"Promise me you won't leave again. My sister needs you."

5 seconds. Tributes around me change their stances as they get into position to run. Some to make a quick escape to safety; others to go right into the midst of the anticipated bloodbath.

The last thing that goes through my head is Prim, my sweet, innocent and harmless sister. A sister that will hopefully never have to endure what I am about to.

"I know you can do this. You can hunt, and fish, and you've been providing for me almost my whole life. I owe you my life, Katniss. Come home. You don't deserve to die, you can't. Fight for me... come home. Please."

3.

2.

1.

The gong sounds and immediately chaos ensues.

* * *

My mind goes blank, and I can't hear anything but the sound of my thumping heart as I hurtle towards the Cornucopia. I spy Glimmer's flapping yellow hair in front of me, and she reaches the weapons just in time to shoot an arrow through another girl's stomach.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I note that I have much better aim.

I am overtaken by the boy from Eight, who reaches for a backpack and nearly makes it to the safe haven of the trees before Marvel's spear pierces him in the back and takes him down.

By this time I have reached the supplies, and as I begin to regain my senses, my ears pick up the sound of angry shouts, wielding blades, and screams of terror. I began wishing I had just stayed oblivious.

It is as I am rifling through the supplies that I hear something approaching me. I spin around to find the source and freeze in fear as I see the District Nine boy come charging towards me, an axe raised in his fist, his dark eyes set on me. I know I should probably move away, run away in fact, but my shock and terror has left me immobile.

Just as Nine gets dangerously close, I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping it will ease the pain of the blow. But nothing comes.

I open my eyes just in time to see the boy's dark eyes begin to roll back into his head, as he slowly collapses at my feet. It is then that I see three perfectly lodged knives in his spine, such a clean shot that there was barely even any blood. Just instant death for the boy I didn't even know.

I look away from his corpse to see Clove approach me from her spot a few metres away, an irritated look on her face.

"Come on Four, snap out of it! We have a job to do. Don't forget that I could kill you anytime I wanted if you don't pick up your slack," she spat at me, before she bends down to yank her knives out of the dead boy's back. With one last glare at me, she sprints off again, flinging sharp weapons at as many people as she can.

I realise that, despite the way she said it, Clove was right. If I didn't wake up and focus, I was going to get myself killed in a matter of minutes.

I turn back to the supplies, and grab myself a large knife and a backpack, before realising that Glimmer had the only bow and arrow. That was the weapon I had used to get the squirrels in the patch of trees by the lake back home, and I had often used my dad's homemade one to catch fish when I couldn't get my hands on any bait. I had been counting on having one with me.

I decide to try and find Emmett now, even though there is still some time before the other Careers finish off the remaining tributes who haven't managed to escape. As I make my way towards the outskirts of the forest, where I would be safe from the others, I pass the body of the boy from Six. The one I helped in training.

And judging by the large slash across his stomach that was obviously made from a sword, I can see that Cato kept his promise to him about getting revenge in the arena.

* * *

I reach the shelter of the thick trees and desperately look for Emmett through the mass of dead bodies and the ones still running around like headless chickens. I see Marvel and Glimmer, who are cornering a whimpering and crying girl next to the lake. I look away before I can see her die at their hands. Cato and Clove stand out as they thunder around the clearing, slashing the air and trying to be everywhere at once. But still no Emmett. Where was he?

Just as I begin to panic and start to search the faces of the dead for him, a hand clamps down on my shoulder. I open my lips to scream, but another large hand closes over my mouth to stop me. I push the person off of me, and spin around to see their face. I sigh in relief.

There is Emmett, the large mace at his feet, and his ever-present smile on his face.

"S'up fellow tribute?," he greets, welcoming my hug as I try to calm down a bit. I supposed my paranoia is expected in the Games, but I needed to start improving my image if I wanted to keep any of the sponsors I may have gained from my training score. Because, let's face it, I really wasn't living up to it right now.

"Where have you been?," I asked, my heart calming down a bit now that I wasn't alone.

"Trying to avoid people, mainly. But at the same time I needed to make sure the Careers thought I was trying to find people to kill. District Four has a reputation to keep, after all. Besides, I saw you stumbling around and figured at least one of us needed to be keeping up the act," he joked, nudging me with his elbow.

I just rolled my eyes as I let myself relax. I couldn't hear anything near by, and all the action seemed to still be on the other side of the trees we were shielded by. By now, I was sure the Careers were close to picking off the remainder of the trapped tributes, meaning we didn't have much time if we wanted to escape.

I opened my forgotten backpack that lay on the floor, and crouched down as I peered inside it. What I found was an empty water container, some dried beef, and a packet of crackers. I saw that Emmett carried no other supplies apart from his weapon, meaning we really wouldn't survive very long if we ran off with only these supplies to sustain us.

I picked up Emmett's mace, handing it to him as I hoisted my small orange backpack onto my shoulders.

"We don't have enough," I said, annoyed at myself for not grabbing anything else before, when I had the whole Cornucopia in front of me. I handed Emmett the backpack and he rooted through it as well.

"What about the water container? Surely we could just share the crackers and beef and catch some fish? We could still do it, Katniss," he said, handing the bag back to me. I shook my head.

"We'd most likely catch some sort of disease without any iodine to purify it, and also we don't know if there are any other water sources in the arena. And as for the food, it would run out too quickly for us to be able to hunt anything else", I explained, leaning defeatedly against a tree. Emmett thought for a moment.

"So, what do we do?," he finally asked. I peered through the trees and checked that the Careers were still occupied. Once I saw that they were, I made up my mind.

"Well, you, my friend, are going to stay here while I go and sneak back to get some better supplies," I stated, returning the pack to my jacket-clad back. Emmett immediately protested.

"Hey, hey. I don't think so, Squirrel. If you go, I go, and you know you need me, so you can't get out of it." I began to deny it but he cut me off. "No! Katniss, listen to me, this isn't a matter of pride or an 'I can take care of myself' kind of thing. This is serious, this is literally about life or death. It's too dangerous to go alone, so we need to stay together and have each other's backs. Don't leave me alone."

The way he said it so sincerely, so seriously, and so... _un-Emmett_, was the thing that persuaded me. I knew he was right. Getting separated right now probably wasn't the best idea, and God knows how we would find each other again in this huge arena. I sighed and gave in.

"Fine. Just please promise me that if I'm attacked, you'll run?", I bargained. The one thing I don't know how I'd get through is if I had another person's life on my hands. Especially Emmett's. He hesitated at my request but nodded along anyway.

"Sure, sure."

I think he could tell I didn't really believe him but that wasn't my priority right now.

"Alright then. How about we just get this over with quickly so that we don't get caught leaving. We run out of here, head straight for the Cornucopia, grab what we can, and run to the opposite tree line across the clearing?" I suggest.

"Sounds perfect. Honestly I just want out of here as soon as possible, I'm pretty sure Cato's wanted to kill me ever since he found out I could lift heavier weights than him," Emmett confessed, grinning a little in pride at his achievement. I just roll my eyes again and we both get into position at the edge of the trees, poised to sprint back into the remainder of the bloodbath.

"You ready?" I asked, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. Emmett smirked and looked straight ahead of him.

"I'll race you there."

* * *

We both take off running at our fastest pace, and I feel like I'm back in the training centre in District Four when Emmett and I first met, and were told to race each other around the lake by the trainer. Being only fourteen at the time, I lost, but I couldn't help but long for those days to be back again, to be able to race my friends somewhere and not have my life hanging in the balance at the same time.

We leap over corpses that I try to avert my eyes from as much as possible, but some of the faces catch my eye and I know that I won't sleep tonight even if I do make it out of here alive.

We thankfully reach the Cornucopia unnoticed by the few tributes left, and Emmett begins handing me supplies to put into my pack, all joking aside. The fear crept into my heart once again, the calm and safety I felt behind the trees gone.

I managed to sling the backpack on, grab a spear that lay on the ground, before we were off running again. We failed to notice that all the fighting had stopped.

We had almost made it to the trees before Marvel comes crashing out of the brush, colliding with Emmett as they both fell to the ground. Panicked, I thought the District One boy had tried to attack my ally, before the boys stand up unharmed, and Marvel just looks confused.

"Well, _there_ you are! Come on Four, where've you been the whole time? And where were you going in such a hurry?" he asked, genuinely not seeming to catch on to the fact that we were trying to make a run for it. I look at Emmett who seems just as surprised as I was.

"Well, we, uh, were guarding the outskirts of the woods to make sure none of the pathetic tributes escaped. Katniss and I saw what a great job you guys were doing in the centre of the fight, so we figured we'd just kill the runners around the perimeter," Emmett lied, making it surprisingly convincing. I'd even call it Career-worthy.

Marvel, thankfully, seems convinced. I think it was due to Emmett's compliment of his fighting skills.

"Oh, well, what were you running off for then?" he asks, just remembering our failed escape. I speak up this time so that I don't seem too suspicious.

"We thought we saw a kid make it through the trees, and were going to finish them off before we crashed into you. Probably the small Eleven girl, I've been trying to catch her all day, " I said, hoping to God that she hadn't already been killed so that my story would be believable.

"You know, on my way back here, I could've sworn I saw someone too! Probably was that little one, I can't wait to finally corner her and make her pay for dodging my spear," Marvel said, and Emmett and I look at each other in disbelief at his gullibility.

Marvel shakes his head, clearly imagining the death of the Eleven girl, and trudges past us in his heavy black boots, heading towards Cato, Clove, and Glimmer, who wait at the mouth of the Cornucopia, watching with interest. A couple of them have a few 'battle wounds' like cuts or scrapes, but seem to have remained relatively unscathed. Clove glares at me with a dirty look on her face, and I just know she was hoping I'd get killed in the bloodbath.

Cato notices how my fellow tribute and I have remained standing still, and throws his hands up in annoyance.

"Well, come on then, District Four!," he yells impatiently, heading towards the remaining weapons at the Cornucopia, gathering them in his broad arms and begins making a pile just beside the lake. The others follow his lead.

Emmett and I look at each other. It is a look of defeat, and also a look of fear. We couldn't run, there was no way we could make it, even if we went now. We had failed.

We look away, and in unison, walk away from the sanctity of the forest, towards the group of menacing people we had not been able to escape from. We had no choice.


	8. Chapter 8

SORRY! My apologies, all! I've been in Australia for the last three months or so, which is why I haven't written another chapter in aaages. I'm getting a better understanding of what I want to include in this story whenever I read about which parts you guys liked, so let me know! Again, sorry for lack of Katniss/Peeta, but I'm getting there, promise ;) Review! -Deli.

Chapter 8

***Katniss***

The light and heat from the crackling fire wafted it's way towards my face, slightly warming my cold, red cheeks. I look out towards the nearby lake, the soft, early evening moonlight reflecting off of the black ripples. I can hear the sounds of crickets and the odd bird squawk fill the night air, cutting through the otherwise silence of the forest.

I turn back to the campfire, looking over the orange flames at my acquaintances.

There sat Cato and Marvel, speaking in hushed mutterings, occasionally making gestures with their hands. It almost looked as if they were arguing about something, but from the sketches Cato was drawing in the dirt with a stick, I could tell that they were merely discussing battle strategies. My face turned away in disdain as their faces lit up in excitement as they discovered some new brutal tactic.

Clove was lounging against a wooden log in silence, twirling her precious knives around her small fingers, focused on something in the ground. Then, so quickly you would have missed it if you blinked, she flung a knife, and I heard the impact from where I was sitting. Peering around, I saw the body of a dead lizard, said knife lodged in it's back.

Glimmer appeared to be dozing, while Emmett sat a little to my right, seemingly lost in thought.

We all remained in these positions for a while, before I eventually stood up and made my way over to the mountain of supplies in the middle of the clearing where we had set up camp. I picked out a box from the masses, and opened it to find two packets of crackers. I ate one packet at once, fueling my hungry stomach before returning to the Careers, dropping the other packet into Emmett's lap. He smiled gratefully up at me.

After our unsuccessful escape from the Cornucopia earlier that day, he seemed to have resigned himself to the fact that we were trapped. Gone were the hopeful, teasing glints in his eyes that he had worn in the trees before we were caught. They had been replaced with worn out, sad looks, as if he knew there was no hope for either of them now.

This had led to a hushed argument in my tent earlier on, while the other Careers were busy getting fire wood. Unlike him, I refused to believe that I needed to resort to being a real Career in order to stay alive, which seems to be what Emmett believed.

"Are you saying you're just going to go off and try to mercilessly murder everyone too? Do you want to just be some kind of Cato clone? Because I don't", I had said to him frustratedly, partly just because of my own sadness that we were stuck with them.

Emmett sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No, I'm not saying I want to be like them, Katniss, but you must see my point in all of this. I'm just trying to be realistic, and I honestly believe that the reality of this situation is that unless we play this game like everyone else, we're only going to get ourselves killed in the next couple days."

"But you'd be killing children-" I started to argue before Emmett cut in.

"Don't think for a second, that any of the other tributes would hesitate in killing you, despite if you had any morals against harming them. It's what we were brought up to believe, and I'm just trying to do what's best for the both of us. And if that means hurting a few people in order to ensure the Careers don't assassinate us for betraying them, then so be it."

I sighed in resignation, remaining quiet. I refused to go along with his idea, but causing arguments with my only friend in this place wasn't at the top my list of priorities right now.

"Come on, they'll be back with the wood soon, and we were supposed to be sharpening the weapons." I said finally.

And that was that.

Now, as we all sit around the fire in the dark clearing, I can't shake the crushing feeling of hopelessness that overwhelms my entire being.

* * *

"Look, who bloody cares about what District Three are doing? We should be focusing on Eleven, they're clearly a much bigger threat."

Somewhere in the last hour, Clove had joined in Cato and Marvel's tactic and strategy argument, and was now contributing her thoughts on who they should slaughter first.

"Cato, Three might be useful to us. Their district is focused on electronics, God knows that could be useful once the supplies run out and we need to set traps. Use that over-inflated head of yours and at least attempt to think with the few brain cells you've got", Clove snarled back in retort. Cato only grew angrier.

"Listen up, my brain cells are just fine. And I'll have you know that I-", Cato began in a huff before being cut off.

"Wait!" Marvel muttered, standing up and looking in the distance.

Cato looked even more furious at Marvel's interruption to his tirade.

Didn't your mother ever teach you to show some respect when other people are talking?" Cato snapped. Marvel just rolled his eyes.

"No, seriously. Look, there, through the trees." Marvel continued, pointing towards the deep forest in the distance. Everyone, including me, stood up to try and see.

And there, just like he'd said, was a thin, faint trail of smoke poking it's way through the canopy of trees, wafting it's way up into the night sky, its dark grey colour barely visible.

"Well, well. Don't you just love it when tributes are too stupid to hide themselves properly?" Clove smirked, crossing her arms and twirling her knives again suggestively. Cato had a similar reaction, who grinned smugly, and almost ran to get his sword in anticipation. He returned to the group with a bloodthirsty look in his eye.

"Gather your weapons, troops. We've got ourselves our first post-Cornucopia killing" he commented, and began to lead the way to the first, while Glimmer gathered the bow and arrow in her arms, and strutted after him.

The post-Cornucopia kills were always the ones sponsors payed the most attention to. Anyone could murder a bunch of people if you put them all in the same field, but it took a little more skill to be able to hunt them down through the whole expanse of the arena. Granted, this wasn't really a proper hunt, since the poor tribute in question had made themselves visible through the most thoughtless of means, making them easy to find, but still. I knew Cato would see this as a triumph all the same.

Emmett and I hesitated, standing still as the other Careers made their way to the edge of the clearing. We glanced at each other in mutual understanding. There wasn't any way of getting out of this.

Grudgingly, I selected a backpack filled with some food, and pulled a dagger from the pile of weapons by the lake. A knife would have to do until I managed to get the bow and arrow from Glimmer.

Emmett squeezed my shoulder in silent support, as we made our way to the others, mentally preparing ourselves for what we may have to witness tonight.

* * *

The woods were cold and quiet, the only noises being the crunching of leaves beneath our boots as we trudged our way through the dirt and branches. The light wind rustled our jackets, and caused my long braid to move from my shoulder to down my back, where it had been pushed.

Cato and Clove led the way eagerly through the trees, while I took up the rear, every now and then cautiously peering through the trunks, as if suspecting a spear to come flying at me at any moment. It was unnerving, really, at how exposed I felt right then, almost as if I was being watched from every angle. It was then that I realised that _of course_ I was being watched. I was on television, after all, and people all over Panem are mostly likely seeing my face on screen right that very moment. Yes, it was very, _very_ unnerving.

It was ten minutes later or so, when I was making my way through a particularly large patch of trees, and I sensed movement directly above me.

I froze, standing stock still while the others continued forwards, not noticing me at the back. I was silent in fear, so as I could not utter a sound while the others rounded a corner and their footsteps disappeared. Slowly, I gathered the courage to look up, my hand going to grasp my knife tightly in preparation, not knowing what to expect.

At first I couldn't see a thing, the tall trunk of the tree winding it's way just so that many of the branches were hidden from my line of vision. However, it was then that the moonlight caught the frozen face of a boy.

I stood still, petrified, waiting for something to happen, perhaps for him to attack, but he never did. He seemed as shocked as I was, and so we both just stared at each other warily, him down at me from the tree, and me up at him from my place on the ground.

My mind started whirring into Career-mode, thinking about how he was at the advantage of having the upper ground, but it was just as easy for me to climb that tree in a matter of seconds, getting to him before he could harm me. I had a freshly sharpened knife, not to mention a pretty good fist, and I could take him down if I wanted to.

Just as I scanned the branches for the easiest way up, I took another look at his face before stopping short, all thoughts of destroying this tribute gone. For it was then that I noticed the blond hair. The blond hair that stood out against the darkness, just as it had that night on the rooftop...

It was Twelve.

It was in this moment that he seemed to have recognised me as well, as his blue eyes widened a bit, half out of relief, the other half out of fear, for he knew that I was a Career. A Career that could kill him easily if I so wished.

But I didn't so wish. Not at all, actually. I came into this sick competition knowing there would probably be times that I would have to take a life, but killing this boy, this boy who had shared my views on this horrific excuse for a television show, just wasn't right. From the way it looked, as he hadn't made any move to try and kill me just yet, he didn't want to fight either.

So, the careful staring ensued, just to be sure the other wouldn't try anything.

I observed him a little while longer, noticing how pale and frail he looked already, despite it only being the first day in the arena. I remembered all the supplies back at the lake at the Career's disposal, and felt sorry for Twelve, alone in a tree, with most likely nothing to eat.

I went to reach for the rucksack on my back, before noticing him tense and flinch back against the tree, expecting an attack. I looked him in the eyes, silently telling him I meant no harm, and continued to open the bag, my eyes never leaving his. As I brought out a few packets of crackers, some dried beef and an apple, I saw him brighten considerably, gazing at the food in longing.

Bringing my arm back, I tossed the food up one by one, with him expertly catching each item and looking back at me in a mixture of confusion, gratitude, and respect.

I shrugged the backpack back on, nodded once at him, and turned to go find the other Careers, a ghost of a smile flitting across my face.


End file.
